If Only
by Jelly-Bean-Jr
Summary: I stare up at Paul angrily my hands clenched into shaky fists; I hated him. How dare he think he can boss me around, what right does he have? "You're not my father," I growl, getting more angry when he smirks, "and you never will be!" I scream at him, watching as he bends down to my height and pats my head affectionately. "Good. Otherwise this would be creepy." -Paul/OC, M language
1. Access

**Author Note:**

I've gotten at least four PM's asking me to start this story. And I've been thinking about starting it when I finished at least one of my In-Progress stories. But that never works out :P So here we are; my Paul/OC story.

Review?

**jelly-bean-jr.

* * *

**IF ONLY:**

**Taborri's point of view **

"Get out of my face and take a freaking shower, would you!"

"This seat is _saved_!"

"Hey! That's my shirt!"

"Have you seen my shoes?"

"Ugh. I am so_oooo _tired."

"No wonder your parents left you here."

"Stop shoving me!"

"I hate my life!"

Kill me. Grab a butcher knife and slaughter me from the inside out. Pry out my teeth one by one with rusty tweezers, put a scalpel to my ears, and make a freaking art project with my intestines. _Anything _to get me out of here and _away _from these good for nothing people, or rather, _children_.

Resting my elbow on the cafeteria table I plop my chin down into my palm and sigh. Reaching out I absently twirl my straw around in my carton of milk, listening to a set of twins scream at each other across the room, and about a dozen other kids just screaming. My eyes drift lazily over to the so called adults of the place and I scowl at their uselessness. To think they'd know how to do their job and take care of these annoying good for nothing abandoned rats. Instead, they let us commit murder while they kick back their ham scented feet. Absolutely _useless_ low life, self-absorbed… my fists clench tightly. I hated each and every last one of them.

Snorting in disgust I stick my foot out just in time for some chubby blonde kid charging down the aisle. Feeling more than satisfied when he went soaring, face-first, to the tile floor. As expected, the kids at a 12 foot radius chorused in laughter, pointing at the red faced kid, his bottom lip quivering in embarrassment and humiliation.

More than pathetic if you ask me; did he not have the slightest dignity?

"What the hell, Taborri?" I look over my shoulder at the –believe it or not- only person who bothers to stick up for the helpless. I give her an irritated look, not in the mood to put up with the only thing she's good for. Even then, without me, she was completely useless, and… besides, no one liked a kiss-ass anyways.

"What are you looking at me for? He was the one running," I snap at her, throwing in a good eye roll. And, of course, her face goes a bright red in anger.

"If you hadn't _tripped _him-"

"You can't prove anything!"

"_Everyone _saw it!" She stomps her foot and takes a step closer, bearing her teeth, "You're always doing this. Can't you leave people alone?" I stand up quickly, facing her with one of my best glares. One where she didn't even have the audacity to stand her ground against. Looking away she stuffs her hands in her pockets, stepping back and shuffling her small feet.

"Why are you being so mean?" she whispers, looking up at me with watery doe eyes that I'm sure gets to the adults whenever she wanted her way. Scowling in disgust I cross my arms, resisting the strong urge to shove her back and watch her fall to the ground.

"Mean? I'm giving you brats a backbone and some discipline. The fact that you can stand there and blame me for your pathetic misfortunes is absolutely _insufferable_," I spat, and the red headed scrap of a girl in front of me scoffed right in my face.

"I can't _wait _until someone knocks you down a level and makes you see just how horrible you are." Seeming satisfied with her comeback she turns on the balls of her bare feet and struts confidently over to the blonde kid that was still on the floor, holding her hand out for him. Ignoring the stares of the other children I sit back down to continue to stir my milk with my straw. Pointedly ignoring the smirk sent my way from the 'oh so' _heroic_ red head. And because of that, I won't let her attitude slide so easily next time.

"And brush your teeth too! It's like the dirt has been growing for 3 months."

"Are you deaf? I _said _this seat is _saved_!"

"No way, hands off! This is _my _shirt!"

"You lost them in the mud, remember?"

"I woke up, like, at _five_; stupid chores."

"Your parents left you here too, moron."

"I'll stop shoving when you stop being ugly!"

"Yeah, yeah, I hate your life too."

Grumbling under my breath I fold my arms on the table and lay my head down on them before closing my eyes, hoping to get a quick nap.

"Psst." I guess not. Frowning I peek open a single eye, a bit startled to see the chubby blonde boy only a few inches away from my face. Blinking I pull back from him, sneering and scooting another good couple of inches away to give myself space.

"What do _you _want?" The blonde boy blushes, bowing his head and rubbing the back of his neck. I raise an eyebrow expectantly; was this kid going to talk or not?

"I just… you know with the whole… thing, I was… I don't know, maybe-"

"I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you think," I say, looking at my nails absently, glancing up at him every few seconds as he fumbled around for a response.

"Uhm, no, I didn't think- you don't… I… it was, kind of funny, I mean…" Furrowing my eyebrows I cross my arms, watching him for a while as he falls silent, his Adams Apple bobbing up and down with each nervous swallow. Humming to myself my eyes scan around the cafeteria, happy to see that there weren't any wandering eyes.

"…what did you want again?"

"Oh! I… I'm L-Landon. And you're…Taborri, right?" Was this kid serious? Rubbing my forehead I bring my milk up and take a sip out of it, tapping my fingers on the table impatiently. Sensing this, Landon stutters again.

"Yeah, well I- I've seen you around and… I, w-we should be friends, I think." His cheeks go a dark red again, and he rubs his palms together for a long while, waiting for me to say something. I had half the right mind to just get up and walk out of there. What kind of brain wave was this kid on, anyways?

"Whatever, kid. Could you just go away? I don't need _you _as a friend; if I wanted friends, I could do a lot better, trust me." He pouts a bit at me then leans forward again and taps the side of my milk with a serious expression. I take a loud sip out of said milk.

"I can be a lot more useful than you think, Tabi-"

"Don't call me that," I mutter, but don't put as much venom as I could have into it. Shrugging it off he leans even closer, forcefully making me give eye contact.

"Access," he says lowly, smirking now, "I have access to more than you could imagine. No more curfews and no crappy cafeteria food. We'd have the privilege to every locked door in the building, highjack the closet with extra blankets and pillows, the _good _soap, and the _good _pencils for school. We'll be living in luxury!" Pleased with his speech he leans back again and nods in triumph, not looking put off at all even after I take another pointless loud sip from my empty milk carton. And as bothersome as he may be, he did have a rather… interesting proposition.

"Access, huh?" I ask, setting my milk down, "Prove it."

"I will: tonight." I barely resist the urge to scoff. If he thinks I'm stupid enough to fall for that he's got another thing coming. There's no way I'm going to risk getting punished for staying up late.

"Yeah right, I'm not-"

"Pretend to be asleep if you have to," he interjects, shrugging, "I'll come get you and-"

"How will I know if it's you? It could be-"

"I'm not going to knock," he laughs, and I curl my fingers into a fist; fat little bastard.

"Then what are you going to do?" I hiss, tossing my empty drink into a nearby garbage can. Landon grins widely; leaning back in what I assumed was supposed to be laid back. Digging in his pocket for a second he pulls something out, the metals clinking together obnoxiously.

"Access," he snickers, a pair of keys coming into view. At the sight, I couldn't help but smirk myself, quirking up an eyebrow and looking straight at Landon. Perhaps befriending a chubby blonde kid wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Well done, my friend," I praise, holding my hand out. Landon grins again, eagerly reaching out and shaking my hand, sealing our newfound truce.

Bullying has never been so good to me.


	2. Plan B

**Author Note**

Chapter two for my new story, and as a fair heads up, this story will gradually move up to the imprint rather than it happening right away because, *ahem*, this story has a _plot_. And stories with plots tend to take some time ;) Or my definition of taking some time anyways :3

Review?

**jelly-bean-jr.

* * *

**IF ONLY:**

**Rachel's point of view **

"This isn't working," I whisper quietly into the room, keeping my eyes locked on my hands sitting in my naked lap. Shuffling around in the room somewhere behind me, the bed dips when Paul sits down next to me, his warm lips pressing into the side of my neck.

"You don't know that yet," he purrs out quietly, and a shiver runs through me pleasantly at the sound of his voice. Scowling I reach out and smack him upside the head; now wasn't the time for him to be turning me on. Turning on him quickly I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow, letting him know that I meant business. He only smirks at me in return.

"Of course I know!" I shout, my hands flying up over my head at his stupid seductive optimism. After about 12 negative pregnancy tests, I was sure both him and I have already caught onto the pattern. I wasn't pregnant, and no matter how many times we go at it, I never will be. It didn't matter if it was a quickie in the hallway and up against the wall, or if it was slow and romantic on a silk covered bed. _Nothing _will get me knocked up at this point, and I don't think anything or anyone ever will.

"Baby, if you'd just be-"

"_Paul_," I whine, leaning forward and staring at him seriously, "I'm not pregnant. It's just not working! It'll never work!" I groan, putting my head in my hands. It was so hopeless, the idea of having no mini Paul's or Rachel's running around making my heartache. I'm a woman, how hard could it be to just get knocked up?

"Rachel," he murmurs, and I can tell he's trying hard not to get annoyed with me. But it was just so _hard_. Whimpering quietly I lean against his shoulder, grumbling a bit under my breath. For crying out loud, why didn't anybody tell me it was this difficult to get a damn bun in the oven?

"Are you sterile?" I try, blinking up at Paul as innocently as I could. He scowls down at me.

"Are you fucking serious, Rach?"

"Fine! Fine! I'm sorry; it's just that _one _of us must be doing something wrong." He gives me a look that I could easily read, and I let out another groan, burying my face against his warm chest. "Sorry," I mumble again. Sighing quietly he puts an arm around my shoulders, and I eagerly cuddle closer.

"We could always try again…" he starts and I pull away, jumping up on the bed so I was sitting on my knees, smacking his shoulder lightly.

"Paul! You know it's not going to work! I didn't work last time, so it's not going to work this time, got it?" I hiss, narrowing my eyes and daring him to argue. He cracks an amused smile instead, chuckling quietly to himself.

"Rachel, babe, I can't take you serious when you're naked." My eyes narrow and I hit him upside the head again, sliding off the bed and walking to the closet.

"When do you _ever _take me serious, Paul?" I don't wait for him to answer as I tug on a bath robe. "You don't! We're _married_, and we're starting a family. You have to _trust _me and take me seriously!" I scold, pulling my hair back into a pony tail as I watched him closely, noting the way he frowned and his eyebrows drew in. Sucking my cheeks in I walk over to him slowly and sit myself on his lap, not wanting his anger to get in the way of my proposition. Lazily I drape my arms around his neck, and with the simple action I could just feel his tension slowly loosen up until his own arms went around my waist.

Sighing heavily he leans forward and rests his forehead on mine. Giggling quietly I nuzzle his neck, satisfied when I hear the all too familiar growl come up his throat and rumble deep in his chest.

"I trust you, and I do take you seriously," he says sweetly, and I cup his face in-between my hands, giving him a small kiss as a reward.

"Mmm, well I've been having this _idea _for quite some time; do you want to hear it?"

"Do I have a choice?" The glare I send his way makes him close his mouth and smile pretty before answering again. "Yes, Rachel dear, I would love to hear your idea." His smile widens, and I pretend I don't hear the patronizing tone.

"Adoption." There: short and sweet. Frowning he removes his arms from around my waist and leans back, raising an eyebrow.

"Adoption…?" he repeats slowly, and I pout when he starts to shake his head. "Doesn't adoption take," he pauses to scratch his head, "like forever? There's all this paperwork and then we'd have to-"

"It's done. All done," I shoot back almost too eagerly, chewing on my bottom lip anxiously for his reply. He chooses to massage the bridge of his nose, his free hand resting on my hip for a moment.

"You signed up for adoption without telling me?" His voice is low and too calm and I shift uncomfortably on his lap, putting my hand on top of his. For crying out loud, it felt like I was dealing with the damn Hulk or something.

"It was my plan B," I murmur pathetically, leaning forward and folding my arms on his chest, resting my chin on my forearms while I stared up at him. I don't bother explaining any further than that, because, with Paul, it's better to keep it short and simple so he doesn't get frustrated. Jacob tells me it's thanks to the stupid wolf temper, Sam putting extra shifts on him, and adding the stupid difficulties with the pregnancy makes Paul more irritable than ever.

Believe me when I say that I've gotten as far as I could with the adoption behind Paul's back without actually bringing a kid home.

Staring right back at me for a long time he tilts his head back and groans for a few seconds.

"Plan B, huh?" he asks finally, and I can't help but grin widely in return, knowing exactly what it was he was actually asking.

"I called and signed up and sorted through all the paperwork after the 6th negative on the tests." It's quiet in our bedroom for at least 5 minutes, just Paul and I staring at each other in a silent negotiation. Until, finally, he leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. I grin wide enough to practically split my face in half. Squealing loudly I launch forward and hug him tightly, kissing over his face repeatedly.

"Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I gush out hurriedly, breathing heavily when I pull back. Matching my smile Paul shakes his head and kisses my lips with a hard peck and rubs my back.

"I spoil you _way _too much." He glances at me with a small smile. "And try not to do this kind of stuff behind my back next time, okay?" Sliding off his lap I only nod energetically, skipping over to the closet to pick out some actual clothes. _Obviously_, I knew Paul would agree to the idea of adoption sooner or later – even though I thought it'd be much later (much, _much _later)… he would still agree. I look over my shoulder at him and smile a little; apparently the multiple negatives got to him too.

"So," I begin, tossing Paul his own clothes, "I was thinking we should probably adopt a newborn, you know?"

"Yeah, I figured," he grunts out, tugging his shirt on, "I wouldn't want some bitter little brat running around here anyway."

"Paul," I scoff, narrowing my eyes. He laughs right back.

"What? You know how that kind of stuff goes. You bring a kid home that's already half grown and they find some way to be ungrateful." Oh for the love of…

"Not _all _orphans are like that. I swear you're so stereotypical it's disgusting." The sound of his laugh was loud and I smile to myself with a slight shake of my head. What a big headed idiot. Humming a bit to myself I bite at my thumb, deciding that, as idiotic as Paul may be, he was going to be a great dad.


	3. Emergency

**Author Note**

I figured it'd be easier to switch off every chapter between Rachel/Paul's perspectives to Taborri's to keep up with everything. At least until the two points of views collide into one scene and all that, then it'll just be from Taborri's point of view.

Review?

**jelly-bean-jr.

* * *

**IF ONLY:**

**Taborri's point of view**

"It's really dark," I whisper the obvious quietly, glancing around the nearly pitch dark hallways. My fingers grazing Landon's too large T-shirt to keep track of the chubby boy, considering I wasn't all that keen on the idea of getting caught in the halls in the middle of the night. I'd be grounded for sure. Fuming at the idea I glance over my shoulder a little nervously. This was stupid; it really was, pointless too. But the _thrill _of it all was so cheap and new all at the same time that I couldn't help but convince myself to follow after Landon further. I mean, it's not like I haven't been grounded before.

"Don't tell me you're _afraid _of the dark," he snickers in response. Scowling I punch him in the side, smirking when I hear his breath hitch followed by a small whine of agony. That'll teach him to step out of line.

"Don't be stupid; I was just saying… how can you see anything?" Landon's quiet for a moment before his body moves closer to mine, and I scowl when he puts an arm around my shoulders but let it go and just cross my arms. I swear, he's gotten way too many expectations with us being friends.

"Let's just say that I have a really good memory and a _really_ good sense of direction," he boasts happily, taking a sharp turn that had me tripping into him. Ack. Shoving him in return I ignore his second whine of pain of the night and fall in step slightly behind him, my fingers moving back to the sleeve of his shirt.

"If your sense of direction is so damn great give me a heads-up next time, bastard." Ignoring the insult he snorts out an agreement before going quiet. Which is fine by me; I only came along so I could grab a snack from the kitchen – not listen to him talk.

"Wait," he says suddenly just as he stops walking, and I barely manage to not bump into him.

"_Earlier _than that, you fat ass!" I hiss in annoyance, shoving him again for a good measure. Huffing I make out his silhouette turning to face me and scowl unhappily when he only half chuckles and half giggles.

"If you really want to hurt my feelings, you're going to have to do better than that." I frown, crossing my arms and don't respond, "You are far from the first person here to call me that." For the love of fuck – he doesn't get it. I should've known he'd be one of those people that take everything personally.

"Cut out that guilt trip act – it won't work on me. Ever," I reprimand aggressively, "I don't care who calls you what or whether or not I hurt your feelings. Just do what you're told, got it?" From the very dim lighting in the hall I could barely make out his expression, but that didn't mean I didn't know what I said was somewhat uncalled for.

It's not like I make a habit of being a bitch, I don't even think it's funny half the time, it's just who I am. And if Landon thinks I'll put some effort just to be partially decent with _his _sorry, irritating ass; he's got a truck load of bricks ready to smack him upside the head.

Either way, I'm not going to apologize.

"That's a little hard to believe," he finally says, his voice cracking an octave higher towards the end. Oh Jesus, don't tell me he's crying…

My eyes roll on their own accord.

"I couldn't feel guilty to even save my goddamn life," I tell him, not letting his blubbering get to me. Looking away from his somewhat distinct outline in the dark I instead look towards the faint gleam of a shiny door knob. Sighing quietly I nudge Landon in the side to get his attention away from his personal woes and to me.

"Huh?" He's already hiccupping.

"What's behind the door?" I ask, and I'm startled when Landon starts to giggle and chuckle again. Shifting on my feet away from him he digs in his pockets for the obnoxious clinking metal kings and jabs one of many into the key hole blindly. And how he does that, I don't know. Something to do with his so called 'really good sense of direction' he mentioned earlier on?

"Just about everything," he croons, and his voice sounds as breathless as I feel when he fishes a flashlight out of nowhere and shines it into the room. At first glance it looks like a bunch of boxes, but each and every sloppy written label is wonderful: blankets, pillows, socks, shampoo, soap, and… emergency cellphones. Landon flashes the light right in my face just as my expression turned confused, and I make out the shadow of his smile above the blinding light. I glare right at him.

"What?" I snap, not in the mood for cheekiness. The light drops away from my eyes and I blink hard to try and correct my vision – which proves to be little to no help.

"You were looking at the cellphones, right?"

"So?" He clicks his tongue at me, snickering quietly now like he knew some inside joke I didn't. My cheek twitches; he was asking for a beat down.

"They're for when we go out on our yearly field trips; every kid gets one just in case something happens. You know, emergencies and everything," he explains helpfully. Grunting I look away, feeling a sliver of embarrassment for not knowing what the heck he was taking about. To think I would know about this; staying at the orphanage for 5 years and all that.

"_Yearly field trips_, since _when_ did we have those?" The closet lights come on and I hear the door close. Momentarily blind I don't have the time to consider us getting caught, but wait for Landon's reply while I rubbed my eyes and sat on the floor.

"You're usually grounded when we go out," he whispers like there's someone else around to hear. I open an eye, making out his blurry image through the tears when I try to get my eyes to adjust. I scoff loudly – pointedly ignoring his equally loud shushing.

"Those bitches ground me on the _one _field trip days we have _once _a year?"

"They think it's best if they keep you away from the other kids, they don't think it's a suitable environment for you."

"And you know that because…?" He responds by giving me a creepy smile, and I lean forward to shove him hard. Could he be any more of a weirdo? Handing me a phone silently I inspect it closely in my hands, turning it over and over thoughtfully. This was a total waste, forty or so cellphones only used once a year? What's up with that? One of which is never in use because, apparently, I don't play well with others? Smirking, I look up at him, making him raise an eyebrow in return.

"You know what? We should so-"

"I _heard _them," an all too familiar voice squeaks in a somewhat toned down voice. Acting faster than any chubby boy I've seen, I'm shoved into the corner with Landon up against me, the light of the closet miraculously off. When did he do that? Frowning I resist the very strong urge to push him off and away from my personal space. Instead, I settle for moving slightly to my left.

Taking an audible breath Landon holds it and I follow his example stupidly, not entirely sure if that would do anything, but would hate to be the reason for us getting caught. Both of us stare into the black room of the general direction of the door, faintly hearing the knob of the door jostle, and I could almost hear Landon's grin stretch across his face when nothing happens. Since when did that bastard lock the fucking door?

…and how many times has he done this to be so damn paranoid about it? I press my lips together indignantly; I bet he already had something dozen pillows on his bed.

"The door's locked, Morgan," 'The Voice of Authority' says, and I fist my hands when I recognize the name spoken. _Red-headed bitch_. I should've figured.

"I know I heard someone out here, sir," the red head says, and by the sigh coming from the caretaker's mouth I know he's not in the mood to humor her and check the closet. He was as lazy as the rest of the so called adults after all.

Having heard that sigh more than enough to know what's up, I take it upon myself to shove Landon off my numb arm and onto the floor. Considering that his arms flail around in a panic tells me he's not so good at categorizing sighs from The Big Man.

"This might have just been your imagination," the Top Boss starts, "or a dream. Do you think that might have been the case, Morgan?"

"I- I guess..." Landon's still holding his breath like an idiot, very much sprawled out across the floor.

"Alright, off to bed then." His heavier footsteps leave almost immediately, and the creek of the boards outside the door tells me more than enough. Fucking nosy…

Scrambling around myself I reach forward and grab hold of Landon's shirt collar, tugging him hard in my direction, pressing the two of us disgustingly closer once again.

The door knob jingles again but clicks happily this time when it's unlocked. My eyes narrow in dismay. She's a lock picker, huh? Morgan is standing in the doorway with perfect posture, and hair that overpowers her body.

Just like a filthy rag doll.

"I know you're in here… just come out now and I won't tell." My grip on Landon's shirt tightens instantly, just in case he gets any ideas. Ms. Ginger clears her throat again, but stays quiet. I could feel Landon sweating.

Gross.

The silence of the closet stretches further on and it's so obvious that she'd have no trouble with standing there the whole night if she has to. Patient little twig.

Unfortunately for her, I wouldn't give up so easily.


End file.
